


Latex

by castielsass



Series: Therapy [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Feminization, M/M, Manipulation, Medical Kink, Needles, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:30:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsass/pseuds/castielsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trigger warning for some graphic non con/sexual assault in this chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latex

Hannibal opened the door at seven-thirty and checked his watch when the waiting room appeared empty. The front door was still closed, so he returned to his office to his desk to wait.  
  
  
Fifteen minutes later a shy knock on the door surprised him out of a reverie, and he made his way to the door swiftly. Evidently Will had knocked, his father behind him with the distance and coldness that spoke of long hours spent fighting.  
  
  
“Sorry we’re late,” Mr Graham spoke first, nodding at him. He didn’t move forward to shake Hannibal’s hand so Hannibal did not either. He didn’t offer an excuse either, so Hannibal smiled at Will, assuming an argument was the reason for their lateness.  
  
  
“No matter. Will is my last patient of the day, so there is no delay with others. Please, come in, both of you,” Hannibal said, opening the door.   
  
“Usually I would suggest a different doctor for combined treatment to avoid Will having the home couch advantage, but in this case I think it’s best to stay as we are,” Hannibal said, as Will and his father entered.  
  
The home couch advantage would relax Will, and Hannibal dropped a conspiratorial wink when Will looked at him. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if he’d just now realised that Hannibal would be on his side. Will smiled a little before he sat, his hands tucked under his thighs, directly counterpoint to his stance in his first session.   
  
His father stood, ignoring the chair Hannibal had placed there specifically for him. Hannibal unbuttoned his jacket and sat.  
“Would you like some music?” Hannibal asked Will. Will had barely opened his mouth when his father cut across him, rude, clearly used to being deferred to.  
  
  
“I don’t have much time here, Doctor, do you mind if we hurry this up?”  
  
  
“Not at all,” Hannibal said shortly. “Will, I don’t know if you’re aware but your father spoke to me on the phone two days ago. He explained his worries over your apparent relationship with another student.”  
  
  
“That’s not my worry at all,” Mr Graham interrupted, as if he didn’t realise Hannibal was luring Will into relaxation.  
  
“My worry is he’s gonna go and get himself killed.”  
  
  
Will didn’t speak, which was a pleasant surprise.  
  
  
“Killed by what?” Hannibal asked. “Please, sit.”  
  
  
“I don’t have much time,” Graham repeated, but he sat, excess fabric of his zipped leather jacket bulging unattractively in front. “I’m worried some homophobe is gonna kill him some day for what he’s doin’, or he’s gonna get some disease or something,” he said, deliciously ignorant.  
  
  
“I’m not gonna get a disease-” Will began. Graham cut across him.  
  
  
“I didn’t see no condom yesterday!” Graham hissed hotly, like they were dirty words. Will bit his tongue.  
  
  
“That’s because we weren’t having sex,” he said, to Hannibal rather than his father. Hannibal lifted a hand for silence and Will quieted.  
  
  
“It’s my understanding that your father returned home early from a work trip with the suspicion that you were seeing your boyfriend?” Hannibal said, framing it as flatteringly to Will as possible. “And that he entered your bedroom and interrupted you and he?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Will said at the same time as his dad snorted.  
  
  
“I thought you weren’t havin’ sex,” Graham said, his eyes turned to the corner of the room like he found the painting on the wall more interesting than his son. Will exhaled sharply and Hannibal felt the argument had been rehashed countlessly. He was losing interest.  
  
  
  
  
“Will, I’m concerned for your safety, so I’ll ask you to be honest with me,” Hannibal said, leaning forward slightly to open his body language. “Have you had sexual contact with him without protection?”  
  
  
Will chewed on the inside of his cheek before nodding, evidently hoping this was as clear as he would have to be.  
  
  
“I’ll have to insist on you taking him to a medical doctor,” Hannibal said shortly to Graham. Will startled, leaning forward to interrupt. “There are many possible complications, and you must be checked out, Will. I’m sorry, I know this is uncomfortable for you.”  
  
  
“What will they have to do?” Graham demanded. His son’s discomfort made him turn slightly toward Will, a half-hearted attempt to shield him with his body.  
  
  
“I expect some tests for sexually transmitted infections, and an internal examination to insure he’s not injured physically. It shouldn't cost more than a few hundred dollars.”  
  
  
Will looked like he wanted to fling himself out of the dark window in Hannibal’s office. Hannibal hadn’t seen such horror on a young face in a long time.  
  
  
“Can’t you do it?” Will asked, looking like he wanted to bite his own tongue off for the suggestion. Hannibal deliberated.  
  
  
“I am a medically trained doctor,” Hannibal said as though he were considering it. “I used to work as a surgeon, in fact. But I’m afraid my license will have expired. It would be illegal for me to treat you without one.”  
  
  
Graham inhaled sharply, apparently embarrassed. “Maybe you could just check him out and if there’s something wrong, we’ll take him to a real doctor. There’s no point in embarrassing him if there’s nothing wrong, right?” he said and Hannibal ignored the slight, making a show of rubbing his forehead.  
  
  
“It would be illegal,” Hannibal said. “I’m afraid I cannot.”  
  
  
“Where else would I take him?” Graham asked, leaning forward in an almost whisper. “Planned Parenthood or somewhere like that? Always crawling with protesters. I’d owe you, Doctor.”  
  
  
“Please,” Will said, tacked on to the end of his father’s sentence like Will was used to hiding behind him.  
  
  
“I have an examination room upstairs,” Hannibal said, as though he was relenting. “I’m not sure how well-kept it is, honestly. The cleaner keeps it neat but I haven’t used it in some years.” A blatant lie. Hannibal had used it last week to exsanguinate an ignorant librarian for a blood pudding.  
  
  
“It’s fine, it’ll do. Thank you Doctor,” Graham said, and it looked like it cost every ounce of his pride to say it.  
  
  
Hannibal sighed and stood, buttoning his jacket.  
  
  
“In that case I will take Will upstairs for an examination. You’re welcome to wait here,” he said, lowering the bait. Graham hesitated and Hannibal watched, let him inch further into the trap.  
  
  
“I gotta go,” Graham said and the wire snapped. Hannibal imagined a refreshing spray of arterial blood. “I have to be somewhere. I’ll pick you up after your session, alright?”  
  
  
Will nodded, strangling relief back down. Hannibal wondered if it was relief at a moment without his overbearing father or something else. Either way, Hannibal walked Mr Graham to the door, Will at his own heels. When he left, Hannibal led Will to the left, away from the exit.   
  
The lights were off in this hall, usually not needed this far down, and the stairs was dark too. Hannibal could almost hear Sibelius Symphony number five in his head. Hannibal flicked the switch to the light outside the examination room, leading Will inside. He shut the door, taking a quiet satisfaction in the small jump Will gave. The room was small, a pale pallete directly counter to the warm tones of Hannibal’s office and waiting room. The separation was obvious, metal coldness easily contradicting the warmth of the rest of the building.   
  
The hospital aesthetic was one Hannibal enjoyed. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and hung it on the hook behind the door, unbuttoning and rolling his sleeves. Will’s eyes darted down to his forearms, and Hannibal smiled. He opened the drawer to the right of his desk, pulling out a neatly folded hospital gown.  
  
It wasn’t necessary but Will had no reason to know that.  
  
  
“I will prepare the room,” Hannibal said. “Please go into the room next door and change into this. Come in when you are ready.”  
  
  
Will looked confused and lost for a moment before Hannibal stepped aside, and showed him the door behind him. Will almost stumbled over the examination table, catching himself on one of the silver trays on wheels and nearly upsetting the lot before he righted himself and made it to the other room. Hannibal spread a new paper cover over the table, and fresh papers over the silver tray Will had nearly broken.   
  
He placed lubricant, sterile gloves, a needle and tube, and a speculum on the table, for no reason other than Will’s reaction. He was washing his hands, up to the elbows as standard practice when Will let himself back into the examination room, blinking in the sudden harsh light. He tugged the gown around him, the slit in the back troubling him. Hannibal dried his hands and pulled on sterile gloves.  
  
  
“You are not allergic to latex, are you?”  
  
  
Will shook his head and the motion let him catch a glance at the speculum on the tray. He flushed bright red, his knees closing together almost automatically.  
  
  
“Excellent. I’ll take your blood first, then,” Hannibal said. He stood, coming close to Will and encouraging him to sink onto the table. He swiped the inside of his arm gently with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic before he pressed his thumb to it, feeling for the rhythmic pulse of a vein under the thin, vulnerable skin. Will was sweating barely, his cheekbones highlighted well with the glow of anxiety as Hannibal pressed the needle to his skin.  
  
  
“A small prick,” Hannibal warned before pushing the needle in, enjoying the pop of flesh and soaking scent of broken flesh. He drew the blood slowly, watching Will’s reaction. His eyes were closed, and he chewed on his lower lip. Hannibal slid the needle out, and filled the container with blood before sealing it.  
  
He pressed a cotton ball to Will’s arm, soaking up the blood and taping the mark swiftly. He disposed of the needle and changed his gloves before sitting again.  
  
  
“So, how long has it been since you’ve last had sexual contact?” Hannibal asked. He sat at his desk, crossing his leg over his knee as Will shook with anxiety in front of him.  
  
  
“It was yesterday morning,” Will croaked.  
  
  
“I’m afraid I will need more details, to know exactly what I should be looking for,” Hannibal said quietly. “What exactly happened?”  
  
  
Will lifted his hand and it came to rest at the back of his neck, the gown lifting unevenly. His knees were shaky and in need of a good moisturiser.  
  
  
“I dunno, I mean. We didn’t have like…penetrative sex,” Will said, his gaze fixed on the painting behind Hannibal’s left shoulder.  
  
  
“What was it?” Hannibal coaxed. “Will, these details will never reach your father, I hope you know. This is only for your safety, no one else ever needs to know what goes on behind this door.”  
  
  
Will’s calf muscle tightened deliciously as he pointed his toe. “He fingered me,” Will said, his voice shaking as if this was his darkest secret. Amusement stirred in Hannibal.  
  
  
“Was he wearing gloves, like these?” Hannibal asked, lifting his own hand. This first step in relating what he expected a pleasurable sexual encounter for Will to his own self was ridiculously easy. Will blinked at the gloves, turning pink.  
  
  
“No,” he said.  
  
  
“Did he use lubricant?” Hannibal asked. The blood tinting Will’s cheeks was so heavy he could almost smell it, taste it.  
“No. Just his...saliva.” Will whispered. Hannibal made a note on his clipboard for no reason other than to see Will squirm.  
  
  
“He wet his fingers with saliva and inserted them?” Hannibal asked and Will folded the gown around himself, sitting heavily on the examination table. He didn’t reply, so Hannibal moved closer on his chair.  
  
  
“Will, I can promise nothing you will say will shock me. I trust you do not have the imagination to even guess at the kinds of things I dealt with as a medical doctor and even now,” Hannibal said, and Will chewed on his lip, making it fat and wet. When he stayed silent, Hannibal spoke.  
  
  
“I once performed surgery on a man who inserted an entire shoe into himself.”  
  
  
“Oh my God,” Will said automatically. “Ok, this isn’t like that.”  
  
  
“Oh, I agree, but trust me when I say you will not shock me.”  
  
  
“We didn’t have lube so he a-ate me out,” Will said suddenly, nervousness forcing his words quieter with every syllable. Something pleasant made Hannibal turn his head down to his clipboard, the feminine way Will spoke of himself making amusement and a quiet dim sort of lust solidify in his fingers.  
  
  
“I see,” Hannibal said. “In future I would recommend a barrier. You may use a dental dam, to ensure safer sex.”  
“Ok,” Will whispered.  
  
  
“However, I would say that saliva should never be used. It’s not an adequate lubricant. You or your boyfriend will have to make the choice to either purchase condoms and lubricant or cease sexual activity. A lubricant is necessary to prevent micro-tears at the very least,” Hannibal said. “I will take a sample of your blood and examine it for possible infections today, then perform a physical exam to ensure you’re not injured.”  
  
  
“Ok,” Will said quietly, apparently losing his words with utter anxiety.  
  
  
“What is your boyfriend’s name, so I don’t have to refer to him solely as such in future?” Hannibal asked.  
  
  
“Matthew. Brown,” Will said after a pause, as if he was thinking about the safety of sharing such information.  
  
  
“Well, yourself and Mr Brown will need to purchase some supplies for safer sex. Do not allow him to put you in the position of needing a physical exam again, Will, you are worth much more,” Hannibal said, testing. Will rose to the bait, like a chicken examining the fence where a fox has chewed through.  
  
  
“He didn’t make me do anything, I asked him to,” Will said harshly and Hannibal swallowed, his mouth watering.  
  
  
“My apologies if I’ve offended you,” Hannibal said. “Sadly in my position I do not hear much of happy relationships, and so I may have jumped to the wrong conclusions.”  
  
  
“You did,” Will said, apparently not so ready to allow Hannibal forgiveness as he usually seemed. The bond was strong, probably cemented by others dissecting and disregarding and degrading their relationship.  
  
  
Hannibal took off his soiled gloves when he had finished writing, replacing them with a fresh pair. “I will need to ask you some questions, I trust you will answer honestly.”  
  
  
Will nodded, his jaw still tight with anger. If only that bare slight had caused such a reaction, Hannibal wondered what would happen were he to slide the tines of a fork between them and twist. Would they break apart, or shatter each other in an attempt to hold fast?  
  
  
“Have you experienced any bleeding? Itching, pain?” Hannibal asked. Will shook his head, his neck tense, as if he were waiting for another slight upon his boyfriend.  
  
  
“Alright, Will. Would you turn around and place your hands on the table please?”  
  
  
“You’re starting the examination now?” Will asked, his eyes widening a little. What did the boy expect, dinner?  
  
  
“Yes, Will.”  
  
  
Will’s fingers knotted in the gown, but he turned, knocking his knee against the table painfully. The gown spread when he slapped his hands against the table, settling either side of his hips.  
  
  
“Will?”  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
“What happened to you? Has someone whipped you?”  
  
  
Will stood abruptly, yanking the gown and covering himself quickly. The bruises danced behind Hannibal’s eyes, bright blue sinking into deep purple speckled with red blood. He had seen at least two D shaped bruised cut deep into the skin, like he’d been spanked with the buckle of a belt. Hannibal wondered if it was the father in a fit of misplaced cruelty or the boyfriend in lust.  
  
  
Judging from the way Will stared at him, like he wanted to either punch Hannibal or crawl into his arms it was the father.  
  
  
“My dad gave me the belt, but I’m fine,” Will said shortly. Hannibal sensed now was not the time to poke or provoke.  
  
  
“I would like to speak to you later about that, would that be ok?”  
  
  
“I guess,” Will said. He turned again, and Hannibal pressed his teeth together. The bruises were fading at the round of Will’s buttocks like they’d been iced.   
  
The abrasions were well-scabbed. Hannibal had no doubt the boyfriend had tried to take care of Will, probably shaking with confusion and fear and guilt.   
  
Hannibal wondered if Will had cried, while he lubricated his index finger. Will’s breathing got audibly heavier when Hannibal’s gloved hand landed lightly on the small of his back.  
“I’m going to insert my finger now, Will, and check for blood or swelling, alright?” Hannibal asked. He briefly considered a more silent approach but Will was already shaking with nerves. He didn’t want to traumatise the boy. A more pleasurable approach would yield better results.  
  
  
Hannibal stroked his hand over Will’s lower back, his fingertip placed at the tight hole, pink between the sea of blue and purple bruises. He eased inside with a carefulness that made Will inhale sharply.  
  
  
“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked. The hitch is Will’s breath was pleasant, and Hannibal curled his finger forward, letting his thumb come to rest of the wet rim of his hole as Will’s hips jerked.  
  
  
“I’m f-fine,” Will said hurriedly. “Are you done?”  
  
  
“Not yet,” Hannibal said luxuriously, stroking his finger over Will’s prostate with a soft, teasing pressure. “Are you uncomfortable?”  
  
  
“I’m always uncomfortable,” Will retorted and Hannibal almost laughed. To reward him, he circled his finger, easing soft over his spot until Will’s legs shook. Hannibal slid his finger out slowly, making it obvious he was looking for signs of blood. When he found none, he added more lubricant.  
  
  
“Will, I’m going to insert two fingers now, to ensure there’s no fissures, is that alright?” Hannibal asked.  
  
  
Will nodded, his hand coming off the table to rub his eyes. Hannibal placed an extra dollop of lubricant to the tips of his fingers, wondering how Will would react as he sat in his father’s car, leaking wetness. Would he turn red, avoid his father’s gaze as lubricant dripped down his thighs?   
  
When Hannibal slid inside this time, Will’s knees relaxed a little, letting him slip forward onto his elbows on the table. What a curious reaction, Hannibal considered. It was the soft dripping noise underneath Will’s ragged breathing that alerted him. When he moved back, he could see between Will’s shaking thighs to where his pre-ejaculate dripped onto the paper cover with soft sibilant sounds. Will sniffed a little, and Hannibal moved forward in curiosity, pressing his fingers deep inside and stroking in a long roll over his prostate until Will clenched on his fingers so tight he had to still his movements.   
  
Will gasped and Hannibal heard the paper cover tear under his fingers as the room filled with the bitter scent of his orgasm. Silence reigned for a moment until Will broke it, trembling under Hannibal’s hand.  
  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he gasped. Hannibal slid his fingers out slowly, pleased.  
“There is no need to apologise, Will. A perfectly normal reaction,” Hannibal said as Will straightened up, pulling the gown around him quickly with shaking hands. Hannibal peeled off his gloves, Will still facing the examination table, dripping with lubricant and come and tears.  
  
Hannibal briefly entertained the idea of bending him over, holding his face to the table he had just soiled and pushing into him with a skill he doubted his young boyfriend possessed.   
  
He discarded the idea though, as Will practically ran to the other room to change. Hannibal folded the paper cover and placed it in the trash receptacle with the gloves, heavy with the smell of come. Best to break the egg, before eating it.


End file.
